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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117694">Open My Chest (and color my spine)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/pseuds/Liquid_Lyrium'>Liquid_Lyrium</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reversi Omens [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Divination, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, M/M, Other, Reverse Omens, Role Reversal, Sad Ending, Temporary Character Death, Wooing, vulture Aziraphale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:13:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/pseuds/Liquid_Lyrium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I saw this and I thought of you.</i> Or: How one can build the bones of a relationship.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reversi Omens [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Open My Chest (and color my spine)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyTrinkets/gifts">FancyTrinkets</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to the lovely FancyTrinkets who gave me permission to use the name Corviel for my take on the reverse universe. IDK if this is strictly '1000% canon' to the Reversi Omens boys but... close enough! (Someday I'll get to Reverse boys meet canon boys I swear!) Also big thank you to silver for giving this a quick beta!</p><p>Aztarioth/Aziraphale is based off an Egyptian vulture. Crowley/Corviel has stars for eyes. They keep their white and black color schemes respectively. Those are the main things you need to know about them. If you want to see more snippets with them you can <a href="https://liquidlyrium.tumblr.com/tagged/reversi-omens">look here on my tumblo</a></p><p>This is for the prompt of <i>bone</i> for Racket's 13 days of Halloween</p><p>Title from Wolves Without Teeth by Of Monsters and Men.</p><p>Recommended listen: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXUloVYbchg">Your Bones - Of Monsters and Men</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>The angel pulls out a satchel from the folds of his toga and pushes it across the table. Corviel tacks the motion onto the end of a sentence. An unrelated thought. He nudges aside empty oyster and egg shells and rubs the bridge of his nose, mindful of how his drunken flush has spread over his cheeks.</p><p>Aztarioth blinks slowly, reaching out for the bag as though he isn't sure he should. Like every inch closer is giving him a second thought. "Really? This is… it's for me?"</p><p>“Yeah,” Corviel fights a bemused smile. “Open it.”</p><p>Aztarioth carefully lays it across his lap. The dark bag sits stark against his calcium white robes. Slowly, the demon works the drawstring open. Corviel traces his eyes over Aztarioth’s face as the demon spills some of the contents into one square hand. He forgets how to breathe when those ivory lashes shift and he’s caught by a pair of carnelian eyes, polished to perfection.</p><p>“What is this?” There’s the most delightful little furrow to his brow. Corviel tries to tamp down the love swelling in his chest. His eyes burn so bright with the feeling he’s afraid he might burn the place down. The smoky quartz lenses perched on his nose can’t possibly be enough to hide his true nature like this.</p><p>“They’re bones ‘n things. You toss ‘em up into the air and use them to tell the future. Well, humans do.”</p><p>“Doesn’t your lot disapprove of divination and such?”</p><p>“All the more reason for you to have them and not me,” the angel laughs, loud and sharp. Corviel’s lips burn with a strange need to press against the brand at Aztarioth’s temple. He presses his palm against his mouth instead. “Though I guess casting lots is still okay. Some of the time. Depends on who’s doing it.”</p><p>He should probably shut up, but he’s so drunk. And he feels drunker still when he gazes too deep into Aztarioth’s eyes. Their depths seem to stretch forever, the starlight piercing through layer after layer of silt-laden riverwaters. Corviel would happily spend eternity looking for the distant shore on the other side, the riverbed at the bottom.</p><p>“Hm. Perhaps I should try it,” Aztarioth moves his hand in consideration, the clack of bones and stones tumbling over one other. “Do you ask a question and then throw?”</p><p>“Go for it, make a wish,” he blurts out without thinking. Aztarioth laughs and sharply tosses his hand up, eyes following the path of the assorted bone fragments and pebbles as they hang in the air. <em> As if I don’t know what I want your wish to be. I want to be part of your future. Tell me that’s what you see. Toss me like those bones and let me fall. </em></p><p>The thought is a sobering one, but Corviel turns it over and over in his mind, even as Aztarioth leans over the table to study where a pair of knuckle bones have landed in an oyster shell. The demon makes a great show of inspecting it, lifting it up with an outrageous delicacy that has Corviel’s pulse fluttering at his throat. Aztarioth hums thoughtfully.</p><p>“Ahh…. yes, yes… I see.”</p><p>“What?” He cranes his neck, trying to get a good look at the portents. Aztarioth ignores him, turning the shell reverently in his hands, keeping it upright.</p><p>“Oh my, really? I suppose they would know...”</p><p>“What? What?” Corviel pouts, but Aztarioth hasn’t taken his eyes off the shell in his hands, so he looks back at it, trying to will the thing to tell him its secrets.</p><p>The demon gasps, and sets the oyster shell down on the table, eyes closed, his face more dire than Corviel’s seen it in ages.</p><p>“Well?” he prompts, burning all over with curiosity now. There’s only another deep hum in response that Corviel can feel vibrating down through his femurs. He leans in to look at the bones, tucked neatly together in the shell, almost like snug pearls. “Wossit mean?” He flicks his eyes between the bones and Aztarioth’s face.</p><p>“It means,” Aztarioth pauses for dramatic effect before opening his eyes, “that you and I are going to get so drunk, that we’ll wake up t’morrow morning adrift at sea.”</p><p>Corviel cackles loud enough it almost sounds like a thunderclap. “You fucking <em> bastard!” </em> He tosses one of the knuckles at the demon, which prompts a swift retaliation—which escalates into the both of them being kicked out of Petronius’ restaurant.</p><p>Much later, as they stagger their way out of another tavern going ever coast-ward, shoulders kissing, Aztarioth reaches for his hand. Corviel’s heart stops beating momentarily, and then kicks into overdrive.</p><p>“I should be saying thank you m’dear,” he manages to say sleepily, soft cheek coming to rest against Corviel’s chest. Aztarioth can probably hear the frantic drumming of his heart there.</p><p>“What for?” Corviel’s ankles have never felt so weak. He thinks they might snap like a pair of twigs.</p><p>“For th’... for th’ gift!” He lifts the bag clutched in one hand, far more empty than it was at the start of the evening. “Oh I’m sorry I lost so many of them… Petronius was really angry with us!”</p><p>Corviel swallows thickly, and sets a shaky hand around Aztarioth’s shoulder, “I’ll—I’ll get you more bones. So many bones. Fucking—I’ll get you a whole skeleton’s worth!” He’s powered by stars, but Aztarioth is a thousand times hotter to the touch. Corviel wants nothing more than to sink into that warmth. Wrap himself up in it for a thousand years.</p><p>“Hmm, but it’s not that, not just the, the <em> things. </em> You… you lifted my spirits when they needed lifting.”</p><p><em> Oh no </em>, Corviel’s insides go all twisty. “I’m… I’m an angel. ‘M supposed to make people feel better.”</p><p><em> “People, </em> yes,” Aztarioth breathes, and Corviel tries not to think about how all that separates his chest from the demon’s face is a few yards of black cloth. “Not demons.”</p><p>Corviel chokes a bit, and manages to bite his own lip as he stammers out, “Y-you’re people!”</p><p><em> “Oh</em>,” has there ever been a sound more beautiful or sinful than that sigh? Aztarioth staggers upright, his hand curled into Corviel’s upper arm. Out here in the dark, those uncanny eyes look like the sunless sea. Impossibly dark and fathomless. Corviel shudders as a hand comes up to cup his cheek. As if he’s something impossibly delicate and precious, instead of made of the foundation of creation. “Starling,” it takes a moment for the thought to land. That <em> starling </em> refers to him. He shivers as he feels Aztarioth’s breath on his mouth, the smell of alcohol mixed with sandalwood and cypress oil making him dizzy. “Thank you,” Aztarioth whispers the words the same way he savors a morsel of flesh. The very edge of a nail pulls against Corviel’s lip as the hand on his cheek pulls away, and the angel feels his heart tumble end over end like a knucklebone cast off the wall in Eden.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>A flute carved from the delicate bone of a pelican. Aztarioth holds it with the reverence and care of someone having the gift of song restored to them. “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Figure you’re the only one around on this rock who might appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>An enormous antler shed by an elk. He pushes it rather excitedly into nonplussed hands. “Look at the size of this thing! Can you imagine? Walking around with something that big sprouting out of your head? Reckon you could use it to hang scarves off of.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>Corviel rolls the apology between them, though it takes a minor miracle to make sure it travels across the grass until it bounces against the demon’s metal clad foot.  A chess piece of blackened bone. A knight with a crudely carved horse-head.  He rubs his chin hopefully.</p><p>“If you want to surrender, you should be sending me your <em> shah</em>.” A twist of the foot and Aztarioth kicks the chess piece back in Corviel’s direction.</p><p>Corviel bends down to grasp the spurned gift with clumsy fingers. He glares at his gauntlets and with a thought the black metal vaporizes into mist along with the fog on the moors. He feels much more comfortable, if colder, in his black chausses and jerkin. In contrast the demon seems to puff up larger, the plumage trimmed along his cape ruffling.</p><p>“Come off it, don’t be a churl!”</p><p>“You think you can buy forgiveness the same way the nobility pay monks to pray for them?”</p><p>“It’s not like that,” Corviel whines, shivers wracking down his arms. He closes his eyes and he lets his stellar cores burn hotter. “I’m not asking you for forgiveness.” <em> Not your purview anyway. </em></p><p>“Then what is it like?” Aztarioth demands.</p><p>“It’s just—” Corviel isn’t sure what it’s like. He glances to one side, feeling oddly guilty. There’s no precedent for this. No script. No <em> plan </em> Aztarioth is always banging on about. “It’s just a way to… lighten the load a bit. That’s all.” He holds out the chess piece.</p><p>“Don’t insult my intelligence Cerviel!” Aztarioth hisses, pushing Corviel’s wrist away. “It’s clear you think I’m a substandard demon! You can just say so!”</p><p>“<em>Cor </em> viel. And I <em> don’t </em> think you’re a substandard demon!” Corviel protests. “You’re just… you have the work you like and the work you don’t.” He rubs a hand along his sleeve. “Just think of this as… a way to… Look, <em> everyone </em> has things they don’t like about their job. ‘S why they call it ‘work.’ We can both agree on that, right?”</p><p>Aztarioth squints suspiciously at him. “I suppose I can concede that point. You don’t like what you do, then? Should I be worried about you?”</p><p>“Suffering ‘s a virtue, innit? ‘S all part of the bag.”Aztarioth scoffs, but his armor creaks promisingly as he settles down at a log by the sad remains of the fire. “Listen, let’s forget about all my foolish ideas about <em> fairness </em> and <em> equality </em>and balancing the scales right now and just… start over?” Corviel circles around the demon and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look, I brought this all the way from… can’t remember where now. Persia or India.” He leans down, his arm sliding down past Aztarioth’s other shoulder, and Corviel tries to ignore the fact that he’s draped around the demon’s neck like a particularly contrite scarf. It’s not that comfortable, even with the feathery cape providing a bit of cushion from the armor.</p><p>Aztarioth finally raises his hand and takes the chess piece with a surprising amount of care. The thing looks tiny, spanning the distance between two gauntleted fingers. Corviel holds his breath.</p><p>“...It is rather clever,” the demon finally admits, sounding impressed. “I thought you didn’t care for horses?”</p><p>A jumbled mess of noises sticks in Corviel’s throat. “I’d never… love all of the Earth’s creatures, don’t I?” His eyes find their way to that vulture’s footprint at Aztarioth’s temple. He forces himself to finally pull away, before he starts to imagine the thought of just the stupidly impressive cape between them and nothing else. “Horses are fine.” He circles the rest of the way around the camp, completing his orbit, and settles across from Aztarioth.</p><p>“I’m only teasing. I’d never accuse you of something so unbecoming of an angel.” Finally those eyes crinkle with fondness.</p><p>“Complicated,” Corviel grunts, watching as Aztarioth turns the piece to admire the craftsmanship.</p><p>“You can’t keep blaming yourself for the unicorn, you know.”</p><p>Corviel sucks in a breath. His fingers dig into his sleeves. “How did you—?” his voice breaks like a fraying thread.</p><p>“I’d heard rumors,” Aztarioth says kindly, secreting the chess piece away in a familiar black bag, “That there have been unicorn sightings on the isle. Is she nearby?”</p><p>“Only twenty leagues from here,” Corviel whispers. Aztarioth beams. “I can take you to her! If you like. If you want to see.”</p><p>Aztarioth’s eyes go wide. Corviel can see every topaz ring in their depths. “You trust me? I’m a demon. A fell creature such as myself might take the opportunity to do… awful things to such a pure and vaunted animal.” Corviel tells himself the thrill along his skin is from the damp and cold. <em> As if I could trust anyone but you. As if anyone else could understand, you were there with me. Like I want to share my secrets with anyone but you. </em></p><p>“Yes,” Corviel says simply. “I do.”</p><p>Aztarioth runs a thumb along the edge of the bag and laughs. “You’re a fool to do so, but I thank you for it, starling.” Dark eyes capture his own and Corviel feels intimately acquainted with the sensation of solar wind creating a comet’s tail.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>A terrible book, bound in bone. Their hands brush as Corviel passes it over. “Keep it safe for me, yeah? Nasty thing shouldn’t be out in the world. Rather a rotter like you hang onto it.” </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>(There will be countless books over the centuries, but later there will be A Book.)</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>A comb made of ivory. Corviel lets his thumb drag along the teeth. “Next time you need to comb a wig or something, might come in handy. Do you think I could pull off the whole ‘live bird in the hair’ look? Be rather impressive, don’t you think? ‘Specially if it can sing on command…”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p><em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em> </p><p>Corviel traces his fingers along the edges of a box before he passes it over. He strokes the edges of his mutton chops next. So strange, that an angel should be so fearful of a demon’s judgement.</p><p>Aztarioth demurs happily as he admires the finely polished edges. “You didn’t have to get me anything for the shop opening.”</p><p>“I wanted to,” Corviel manages to squeeze the words out of his lungs. “Deserve it.”</p><p>“Sweet thing,” Aztarioth accuses with a wry grin before opening the box with a gasp.</p><p> There is a cameo charm within. A delicate bird skull carved in white, sitting atop an agate background of wine-soaked dust. “Thought it matches your eyes,” Corviel manages to say, tracing a hand along an empty shelf. “Might bring them out.”</p><p>“It’s <em> lovely</em>,” sure and careful fingers are already lifting it to the cravat at his neck. “You spoil me, starling.” It’s probably true, but Aztarioth doesn’t seem to tire of these paltry offerings. Somewhere the demon has a chain full of tiny charms made of rodent jaws, antler pieces, bird feet, and deer’s teeth from Bavaria. There are silver cufflinks cast to look like a sparrow’s skull that found their way into his hands by some special providence. There are countless brooches and charms and buttons, and now Aztarioth has a place to house them all.</p><p>“Well,” Corviel swallows, tucking his eyes firmly behind the man-made eclipse of his lenses, “somebody’s got to.”</p><p>“It really is properly demonic,” Aztarioth smiles at him before his expression drops into a frown. “Does it… I mean, is it off putting? I’ve never really asked before. I suppose it ought to be.” Those sure fingers fumble for a moment with the pin. </p><p>“Nah. Big spooky fan me,” Corviel says softly, bringing his fingertips up to gently cup the edges of the demon’s hands. A pretense to lend some stability where none is required. <em> As if you aren’t the one who fills up my hollow bones to hold me up. As if you aren’t the strong one between us. As if you haven’t carried my home on your back for all these years. </em></p><p>Aztarioth’s eyes sparkle, like soil that’s soaked in fresh rainwater. His insides tremble when they’re turned his way.  “Thank you, my dear.” The agate brings out all the gentle subtleties of the red mixed in with the brown. Just like Corviel knew it would.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Anytime.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>A sheep’s bone masquerading as a saint’s. Corviel rattles the false reliquary in its box. “Found this at an auction. Never should have let you convince me that these were harmless fun!”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>A delicate bone china teacup, painted with a master’s hand. Aztarioth’s pinky traces the handle. “Just a trifle, figured you wouldn’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you. </em>
</p><p>Corviel sets the pungent, paper-wrapped package down on the table in offering, without a word. As if he isn’t always thinking about Aztarioth.</p><p>It’s a fish that found its way to the market. An invasive species. Something even humans won’t bring themselves to eat (yet), skittish about the poisonous spines and the possibility of toxins collecting in the meat. Those pale lashes flutter, and Aztarioth raises his eyes from the collection of fins and spines—the same color as some of those stripes, in fact. </p><p>“Oh really?” Aztarioth sways, as if it is the height of compliments to be likened to an intrusive, ineradicable menace.</p><p>“Yeah,” Corviel nods once. He rubs at his cheek and neck, mindful of the spots. In the summer he trades the pips on his wings for silver freckles if he stays out in the sun too long. He hates that. It’s so embarrassing. He’s meant to be a fucking distinguished angel, not something… cute. “‘S all pointy and sharp. Full of venom too.”</p><p>“Is it?” Aztarioth murmurs out in a low, inappropriate breath as he bends down to inspect the specimen with his clay colored eyes that hover at the edge of red. “How marvellous. And you really thought of me?”</p><p>“Course I did,” the angel chokes. It feels like he bit right into that venomous spine the way his tongue thickens and slows. <em> As if you don’t thrum through my bloodstream like something dangerous and deadly. Like my heart doesn’t push you through to every part of me with every beat. Like my liver hasn’t given up on making an antidote. </em></p><p>Corviel feels oddly laid bare as he watches Aztarioth clean and eat the fish right there with his talons, peeling white flesh away from bone. The demon shudders, and moans appreciatively as he closes his lips around a spine.</p><p>“Oh that’s <em> frightfully </em> delicious, and what a naughty feeling it leaves in my mouth.” He deliberately rubs his lips against one another with an obscene purr. “Leaves the lips numb and my tongue… tingling.” Aztarioth’s words come out sounding something next to drunk, and Corviel <em> burns. </em> His eyes may be stars, but they feel cold compared to the heat wicking through his veins. Those harsh eyes turn soft as they shyly glance up at Corviel. “Thank you, starling.”</p><p>Corviel’s lips tingle. The inside of his mouth turns numb, from his tongue to his soft palate to the back of his throat, and all he can do is nod.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>For once the fire without burns hotter than the fire within. Corviel wonders if this is what it feels like to be a dying star. If this is what the heat death of the universe will feel like. It’s been a long time since he’s withstood the flames of a celestial forge, but Corviel runs into the fire anyway.</p><p>“Aztarioth!” There’s nothing but ash and smoke. No familiar eyes, no familiar flash of white. <em> “Aztarioth!” </em></p><p>Something catches under his heel and he crashes to the floor. Corviel stares at a knucklebone inauspiciously cracked in two under his weight, at the rest of the scattered portents. As if his future matters now. As if anything matters now. <em> As if life is worth going on without you. Like this planet means something without you on it. As if my heart exists to do anything but love you. </em></p><p>“You’re gone,”Corviel pushes himself upright, glasses boiled away, eyes nothing but a pillar of plasma. He looks down at the familiar bones, the pendulums, something that might have been a goat’s liver before shrivelling into jerky.</p><p>There’s something else there, in the wreckage. The layer of ash and curling leather look more like a stack of vertebrae than anything else.</p><p>Corviel’s hand closes around A Book. He stares down at it stupidly where the green has transfigured in the heat into something that is an unholy mix of brown and red.</p><p>
  <em> I saw this and I thought of you.</em>
</p><p> </p>
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